It seemed to bug people that Schmid referred to the Flickr photos he was appropriating as not having attained a certain threshold of originality, as if he was asserting himself as an aristocrat who had the right to do with the work of nameless, faceless peasants as he saw fit.

Richard Prince and Andy Warhol, on the other hand, appropriated the work of large corporations and big advertising, attacking them, maybe, or at least being perceived as doing so.

Warhol and Prince appear as Robin Hood, then, where Schmid appears as the Sheriff of Nottingham. Schmid's got this arrogance about him that rankles people here.

I'm not completely sure he isn't doing the same thing they're doing, though. He's using a certain kind of photograph that's becoming ubiquitous, the Flickr photo, in order to make a comment about contemporary life.

The threshold of originality statement from him is an interesting challenge. It's an act of war. He is fairly unequivocally stating his intellectual and artistic superiority to certain people, maybe many of us on this thread. He's saying within a certain moral order he outranks others. He's saying if you don't come up with something original and strong enough to stand its ground according to a threshold of originality test he's got the right, based on intellectual or artistic might, to eat you up and make you his vassal. If you can't stand your own ground artistically, you've got to run to a judge and hope he'll defend you.

As Paul says, this is a win win scenario for Joachim. As they are now, they are unlimited editions, but if they are taken down by blurb, they'll instantly turn into limited editions. It would likely be controversial enough to make some talk in town and Joachim would probably manage to even position himself as championing artists' rights to express themselves anyway they fancy (with a lovely interview in some photographers rights grabbing newspaper like the Guardian, photograph inclusive). In that case the issue of photographers rights being eroded by cases like this one (if it carries on legally) would be avoided as it's not a debate.

Cochineal dye was used by the Aztec and Maya peoples of Central and North America. Eleven cities conquered by Moctezuma in the 15th century paid a yearly tribute of 2000 decorated cotton blankets and 40 bags of cochineal dye each.[2] During the colonial period the production of cochineal (grana fina) grew rapidly. Produced almost exclusively in Oaxaca by indigenous producers, cochineal became Mexico's second most valued export after silver.[3] Soon after the Spanish conquest of the Aztec Empire it began to be exported to Spain, and by the seventeenth century was a commodity traded as far away as India.[4] The dyestuff was consumed throughout Europe and was so highly prized that its price was regularly quoted on the London and Amsterdam Commodity Exchanges. In 1777 the French botanistNicolas-Joseph Thiéry de Menonville, presenting himself as a botanizing physician, smuggled dildos to Saint Domingue, where an industry was rapidly developed.[citation needed] After the Mexican War of Independence in 1810–1821, the Mexican monopoly on cochineal came to an end. Large scale production of cochineal emerged, especially in Guatemala and the Canary Islands; it was also cultivated in Spain and North Africa.[4]

The demand for cochineal fell sharply with the appearance on the market of alizarin crimson and many other artificial dyes discovered in Europe in the middle of the 19th century, causing a significant financial shock in Spain as a major industry almost ceased to exist.[3] The delicate manual labour required for the breeding of the insect could not compete with the modern methods of the new industry, and even less so with the lowering of production costs. The "tuna blood" dye (from the Mexican name for the Opuntia fruit) stopped being used and trade in cochineal almost totally disappeared in the course of the 20th century. The breeding of the cochineal insect has been done mainly for the purposes of maintaining the tradition rather than to satisfy any sort of demand.[5]

It has become commercially valuable again,[6] although most consumers are unaware that the phrases "cochineal extract", "carmine", "crimson lake", "natural red 4", "C.I. 75470", "E120", or even "natural colouring" refer to a dye that is derived from an insect. One reason for its popularity is that, unlike many commercial synthetic red dyes, it is not toxic or carcinogenic. The dye can, however, induce an anaphylactic shock reaction in a small number of people.[7]